"Good-by, papa," said Kyzie, and locked the door after him. "I wish I'd asked him to stay till I called them in and took their names. Papa is so dignified that it would have been a great help. My, I feel as if I weren't more than six years old!"
She walked the floor, watch in hand. "Fifty seconds of nine."
She went to the bell-rope and pulled with both hands. It was quite needless to use so much force. The bell was directly over her head; and instead of the "mellow lin-lan-lone" she expected, it made a din so tremendous that it almost seemed as if the roof were about to fall upon her. At the same time there was a scrambling and pounding at the door. The children were trying to get in.
"Oh, miserable me, I've locked them out!" thought the little teacher in dismay.
She hastened to the door and opened it, and they rushed in with a shout. This was an odd beginning; but Kyzie said not a word. She remembered that she was now Miss Dunlee, so she threw back her shoulders and looked her straightest and tallest, and as much as possible like Miss Prince, her favorite teacher. She had intended all along to imitate Miss Prince—whenever she could think of it.
Only fourteen years old! Well, what of that? Grandma Parlin had been only fourteen when she taught her first school. Keep a brave heart, Katharine Dunlee!
Joe Rolfe walked in as stiffly as a wooden soldier. Behind him came a few boys and girls, some of them with their fingers in their mouths. There were twelve in all. The last ones to enter were Nate and Jimmy, followed by Aunt Lucy and her niece arm in arm.
"I wonder if Nate is laughing at me for locking the door?" thought Kyzie, not daring to look at him, as she waved her hands and said in a loud voice to be heard above the noise:—
"All please be seated."
Being seated was a work of time; and what a din it made! The children wandered about, trying one bench after another to see which they liked best.